The Travelers' Song

by Brendan O'Gara

  “Smooth is fast,” came Johan in reply.

  “STOP! I know what is next. I know what you are doing; you do not need or want to do this! We are all on the same side. Just stop,” Rick called as he pulled through the opening of darkness and put himself between the newcomers and the assassins. “Yes they are assassins, however they are not here for you. These two are our assassins. If the need arises they are here to kill us, not you.” The tension in the air was so strong it could strangle a man.

  Motioning to the benches, Rick began to explain. Heronimus looked about impatiently. Rick was afraid and knew that he was going to repeat himself, not only to reassure these people but also to convince himself of what he was about to tell them.

  “I am the first Excursionist. I am in charge of Melinda and all the others out there. The emperor learned a lesson from history to keep secrets. He knew from the rest of the world and to keep them safe they sometimes have to be protected by bad men willing to do bad things for the greater good. The Assassins of Imperialis are those people. Vanquish and I travel together, yes; we are not friends, as it is easier to kill someone who is not a friend. He knows as I do that one day he might have to do it...he may kill me. I, as the first Excursionist, know every portal in the kingdom to and from every major city. Every one. Yes, yes, the portals of travel are hidden in mirrors, furniture, and secluded places. They are not easy to find, just so. If the enemies of the empire learned the information I have in my head, then I would be targeted for capture. The emperor knows it, and we cannot allow it.” Rick nervously looked at his charges. “Please, relax your weapons.”

  A short, dark-skinned female human with large almond-shaped eyes the color of bright burning fire, entered the room. She had a shaved head and ruby lips and was wearing a harpy cloak of grey. On her feet were shoes for running. Not the sort of thing one might see in high court. Her ample bosom bounced under the cloak as she stalked into the room like she owned it, ignoring a silent protest from Melinda, and handed a letter to Rick. She then moved off to one side of the room to await any needed reply. Rick took the letter, holding up one hand for a moment of silence. Concern crossed his face and was quickly replaced by understanding.

  “Right. Now we are going to split up here, according to this letter from the emperor.” Rick looked at the messenger. She nodded. “Gadlin, you and Wandalor are with me. Everyone else is to go with the messenger. She will take you out of the keep and across to an inn called The Spear of Lightning. An account has been set up in your name, Darr; you are to take charge there. Now before you decide to protest, as I can see is written on most of your faces, please do not. I can only do as I am instructed to do by the emperor.” Rick spoke in an even voice. “Oh yes, maybe you want to know where you are, just so. You are in the Stygian Keep.”

  “I will follow her to Hades, or nearby anyway,” Johan said as he eyed the woman in the harpy cloak.

  “Johan, please remember not to waste this second life you have been given,” Charlotte chastised. “Besides, she looks as if she could snap you like a twig.”

  Johan sighed. “Yes, that’s true.”

  “I want an audience with His Greatness as well,” Darr stated.

  “I know, and I understand; you came a long way only to be told to wait a little longer. It will all work out after the emperor does whatever it is he has to do. I assure you that you all will be brought back into the keep to speak with him and be rewarded for the hard work you’ve put in. Just so.” Rick seemed concerned.

  Wandalor and Gadlin shook arms with Darr, Thalin, and Johan. Both then hugged Charlotte. “You will be safe with Darr,” Gadlin whispered to her.

  “I know,” she answered, and put her palm on the side of Gadlin’s face. For the briefest moment he closed his eyes and lost himself in her touch. He and Wandalor followed Rick out of the room.

  The group parted ways. Thalin, Johan, Darr, and Charlotte followed the woman in the harpy cloak through corridors and archways, past guardsmen. Then out to a courtyard. Suddenly the idea took hold in them they had just left Blackweb where it was barely morning, Here they were, coming out of this keep, and it was well into the evening. The moon was starting to make its way to the zenith in the sky. All of them, including Darr and his reserved manner, were taken aback as they walked across a training field. There were five thousand men-at-arms, mustering. Passing through an inner gate, out to a smaller area some hundred feet to another great wall and gate, they continued out into a bustling city.

  The city was illuminated by street lamps that were situated every fifty feet. The illumination was not flame or a gas. It looked and felt of Eldritch to Thalin and Darr, who both tried to get the woman to stop and allow them to examine it.

  “No, we are almost there; once we are at the inn, you must wait until summoned. It is his will,” she said to them.

  Not ready to be lost or left behind, the normally protesting Charlotte was compliant and silent. She was at ease in the city, as she was from a larger city. She had seen street lights and bustling streets. Stygian was much larger than her home town of Zebulon, and so beautiful. She noticed how clean the city streets were. No trash or garbage in the gutters. The windows of the buildings were shimmering in the dying light of evening.

  Once at the inn their escort saw them up to their rooms. Then she excused herself to return to the keep. Charlotte was given her own room. Thalin, Johan, and Darr were housed next door. She was happy to see there was a door between the rooms. She opened the door and told her friends she was going to indulge in the finer things that a city inn had that a small town tavern inn did not, starting with a hot bath.

  Chapter Thirty-Six

  The water swirled around the dome that covered Cerulia as a messenger ran through the city. He ran past homes and shops through the gate of the lord’s palace. The messenger didn’t stop at the gate. The guards knew him and didn’t attempt to stop his mission.

  The young man flew up the steps into the library, where Lord Beckett was reading through a book of histories. When the courier rushed into the room the lord looked up at the red-faced man..

  “Careful,” the lord said, “take your time.” The man slowed his breathing and bent over, placing his hands on his knees. Finally, after several minutes, he stood and bowed to Lord Beckett.

  “Sir, there is word.” He handed a folded piece of paper to the Water King.

  Lord Beckett took a brass letter opener in the shape of a small sword, with a treble clef handle, and slid the blade end under the wax seal on the folded parchment. With steady hands he unfolded it. His eyes moved to read the correspondence. As he did the messenger saw the lord’s eyes speed up to a frantic rate. Lord Beckett looked up. “Is this true?” The man nodded.

  “Go get my son,” Lord Beckett said. The messenger slowly bowed, and walked to the door. “Where is the haste you came in here with, man? Go! Run!”

  In a matter of minutes Seine entered the room, alone. “What is the emergency, Father? I came as fast as I could.”

  “Sit,” Lord Beckett said, the letter shaking in his hand. “She has found the first plate.”

  Seine looked at his father in confusion, which became horrific understanding, “The Zebulon Princess? She found the first Dragon Plate? How?”

  “It matters not how. She must not find the others,” Lord Beckett said.

  “How will we stop her?” Seine inquired. “The heir to the Zebulon throne is magic-born.”

  Chapter Thirty-Seven

  Back in the Stygian Keep, Rick escorted Gadlin and Wandalor through corridors and a great feast hall. Wandalor stopped Gadlin from picking up food as they passed through the area. In a side room Rick stopped, and motioned to a chair that sat at a small desk. “Wandalor, this is the scribal room. In here you will give the report of your expedition. I assume you are the most learned of the group, carrying that book satchel as you do.” Rick motioned to the bag at Wandalor’s side. “Do I wait for the scribe to arrive?” Wandalor questioned

  “No,
you talk. The scribe is here in an alcove. You just pull out your notes and give the report. The scribe will write. Do not worry about how fast you speak, as there is more than one recorder. They will get it all down. When you are finished, say so then wait. An escort will come to take you out to the inn, to the others,” Rick explained, motioning about the room at the desk. “Gadlin, you come with me.”

  As soon as they left, not one to stand on circumstance, Wandalor pulled out his notes and began speaking to give his detailed report to an empty hall. Off to his right he heard the scratch of quill on parchment, so he relaxed and spoke evenly all the way through.

  Gadlin and Rick entered the throne room and the emperor stood from his place of honor. Great braziers enclosed each of the twelve obsidian columns and lit up the entire hall. Light engulfed everything in a flickering radiance, casting shadows on the wall like flaming claws. The humongous chandeliers hanging from the terraced ceiling danced in the flickering light, while stone effigies looked down on the porcelain floor of the impressive hall. A teal rug ran from the throne to the doors, matched by smaller rugs on either side of the hall. Guidon banners with golden tracery swung gently from the walls. Between each banner hung a torch; all but a few were lit and in turn illuminated the mosaics of legendary creatures below them. Narrow windows were contoured by drapes colored the same teal as the banners. The curtains were adorned with fine patterns and embellished edges.

  A regal throne of oak sat atop a balcony overlooking the throne hall, adjoined by three equally impressive seats for the emperor’s immediate family. The throne was covered in labyrinthine carvings, and on each of the ornate legs was an elegant sigil. The comfortable pillows were a lighter shade of teal and adorned with embellished embroideries.

  A voice came from a man sitting on the throne. “Rick, thank you. Now leave us; we have much to discuss, this one and I,” Emperor Mooreclasain said with a wave of his hand. Rick nodded, bowed, and left the throne room, his job completed. The emperor stood.

  “Emperor,” Gadlin said softly as he kneeled.

  “I am so glad to see you well. The world as you know it is changing, and not for the better,” Mooreclasian said to Gadlin. He lifted him by the shoulders so he would stand at full height.

  “How? Why? How did you know something was wrong? Why did you send someone to get us?” Gadlin asked.

  “After a long life of contemplation, I have learned to study people. I have learned to see in people a deeper potential. I see that in you and your friends. Apparently, your group has a magnetism about it, as you have grown in number.” Mooreclasian gestured to the hall where Wandalor gave his report.

  “And you have plans for us?” Gadlin questioned.

  “People, humans, do not change. They think that they do, but they do not. No matter how much you teach them, no matter what you show them, they do not change. They never will. I have lived through much and have seen it all, and I mean all. I have seen this land we live on grow, shift, and change. I watched as civilizations started, grew, and flourished. They became decadent, only to crumble. Walls fell to the ground, pulverized to dust by wars and by time. Humans are the constant in all of this growth and destruction. I was in the room when major decisions were made about the future of humanity. They wanted to travel to the stars. Oh yes, before that they wanted to travel in the air like the hawk. I held the drawings of the earliest ideas of the ships. Many kingdoms and lands used air and water to transport people and goods across the sea. When man was toiling with stones, it gave way to copper. Then brass grew to iron, and I was there. When humanity started to figure out how to rule itself with a democracy a new republic grew, only to be ended by a war that gave birth to a monarchy that was despised and marred by starvation. The ruler and their family murdered. For the good of the people, it was thought all should share a form of communism. Oh yes, socialism was born and short-lived. I was there to see it all. A new authoritarian form of government took its place in dictatorship. Normally, a dictator is the main individual ruling the country. While there are lackeys and others who work for the dictator he or she makes most of the decisions, and usually has enforcers. In some cases, the political system is run by a small group of people. Dictators are not restricted by constitutions or parliaments. I was there for all of it. That is to say I have read about this in books. I am not, after all immortal... am I? Maybe,” Mooreclasain said to Gadlin.

  Gadlin stood there, wondering if the emperor was insane. Knowing that he wasn’t, Gadlin tried to fathom what he heard. “I now have more questions than answers,” Gadlin confessed.

  “I understand. I know I sent for you all to come, and it has been a long day. Many things have transpired. I am happy you are safe and alive. I need to rest a bit, as should you. You should go find rest and share a meal with your group. Tomorrow we will speak, when you are on Stygian time and not that of Blackweb,” Mooreclasian said to Gadlin.

  “This place isn’t like the capital in Emeranthia. It is so different for you; I just don’t get this place,” Gadlin said.

  “Do you like the palace? It is a bit ostentatious for my taste, but nonetheless it is nice. I did not design the place—I took it. Now, go. I will send for you tomorrow,” Mooreclasian said, smiling at Gadlin.

  Gadlin genuflected to the emperor and left the throne room, where an escort was waiting. He was ushered out of the Stygian Keep by a soldier who walked him out to the mustering field. The soldier directed him to the exit of the keep and pointed across to the inn called the Spear of Lightning.

  While walking across the mustering field, Gadlin saw a woman in armor mounting a platform eight feet off the ground, with a railing and stairs. She grasped the rail and it lit up blue. The woman began to speak through Eldritch power. Her voice carried to everyone in the field. Gadlin stopped to listen.

  “If you want to be the best, you must out-work the rest. It goes without saying the best warriors work harder than the rest. They train harder. They learn more. They put themselves through more pain, more failures, more falls. If our opponent does ten drills, we do eleven. If they do fifteen, we do sixteen. Whatever it takes. Some have talent, however none of that talent would ever be realized as greatness if they didn’t put in the work. On the other side, think of all those with little talent who have created victories with effort. Fighting spirit and effort will get you whatever you want in life. The heart you have, that keeps fighting inside you, has to be set free. When life has you on the canvas and is beating you down, when everything keeps pushing you, and working against you, say ‘No, I will succeed! I will win. I will train. I will be a better fighter to smash through unexpected obstacles.’ If you want more than most, you must work harder than most. Work smarter than most and get up one more time. Only then can we go farther.

  “I did not come this far to only come this far. Until we reach our goal, let me tell you something: There is no end. Winners never stop. When we reach one goal, we will set a bigger goal. When we reach the top of the mountain, we find a bigger mountain! It is the journey, the continued pursuit of growth. The constant seeking of improvement, the challenge that makes life great. That is what makes a fulfilled life. Not more things, not more territory, more growth, not constantly pushing to be better. We did not come this far to only come this far— we came this far so we could be strong enough to go farther. We will be good enough to push harder and destroy our enemies. We are only getting started! This is just the beginning. I am proud of each of you and your achievements. That does not mean you should settle for them. Our nation, our army does not seek only our lands. A true empire seeks growth. We seek greatness.”

  Gadlin was amazed that there was a female general of the imperial army, a man’s army. Mooreclasian was like no other sovereign known. Gadlin felt certain he was in the service of a man who would go down in history as a great leader, a progressive leader. Gadlin then turned to make his way out of the keep.

  Chapter Thirty-Eight

  Long shadows of the Stygian Keep and its crenellat
ions stretched over the grounds of the courtyard within the citadel. Gadlin felt he was ready to move on, take on the next level of the challenge and continue the journey set down by his lord. He walked from his place where he’d watched the address of the commander.

  Out of the shadows in front of Gadlin stepped a young woman with dark hair. Long heavy curls hung down to the middle of her back, and she had steel-blue eyes and striking red lips. The woman took steps toward him. She wore a long dress with straps over the shoulder and a hem just above her ankles. There were no adornments on the front or the back. She wore no weapons.

  The woman stepped out of the nothingness, out of the shadows. The sun was setting past the citadel. Rays of light broke through the portcullis. Gadlin stepped up to an archway. He saw the woman and recognized her as Lambach. The two exchanged pleasantries. Time moved slowly and as the light broke across the two of them, the illumination from the setting sun dissipated across where they stood.

  Gadlin looked up to see Darr on the balcony of the inn. He lifted his hand to Darr and turned to look back at the woman. In the blink of an eye, Gadlin collapsed as life left him. Eyes that once danced with light were now vacant and staring. The once-rosy complexion was now waxy and pale. The mouth that was so quick to smile stiff and agape. The lips that kissed with love were now clouded and cold. The hands that held tight to weapons and friendship lay like the limbs of a rag doll violently thrown. The legs that used to run in the forest twisted unnaturally into a position no living person could maintain.

  Lambach bowed her head and stepped back from Gadlin as he fell. From a distance, Darr saw as a light lifted up from his friend’s body and moved into the woman’s chest. Charlotte’s scream split the air. Lambach folded into the darkness, gone.

  About the Authors